


Zeitgeist

by WinterKoala



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Johnlock, M/M, Mollcroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2022678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterKoala/pseuds/WinterKoala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft needed to bring a Bird to see his Mummy. Molly ended up being drafted just for this purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed work.

_Molly Hooper._

_Miss Molly Hooper._

_Doctor Molly Hooper._

_Doctor Hooper._

There was a belief in some cultures that knowledge of a ‘true name’ allows one to affect another person. It is even quoted in numerous books that ‘true name’s that are known give a person power over an individual.

 _Rumpelstiltskin_ a German fork tale existed way before the Brothers Grimm patent and copy it into their little collections of fairy tales. _Rumpelstiltskin a tale of a small imp like creature that held supernatural power who makes deals with unsuspecting girls to help them in exchange for a children they would born in the future. It also symbolizes the power of the true name that once learned and spoken out gives the girl control over the imp creature to prevent him from taking away her child._

This is one small story upon dozens of others that displays the power of a name. Let alone cautioning anyone in a lessons of ever revealing their names to any stranger that might do harm. 

Mycroft knew of power. His name if it were known and spoken in public held an unspeakable authority to those that knew of it. Lucky, it wasn’t used and no one knew of its existence at least no-one that were not in a higher position of power.

Mycroft Holmes was no stranger to power. He knew how it lured those around him; and that the seductive sweet taint that those foolish enough had drown in their own doom. A mentor of his in a University was a notable example of the corruptibility of power. The high ideal man once gaining a seat of power inside her Majesties military started to abuse and accept bribes. The foolish man lined his pockets with money from the sales of weapons plans and defense secret. Never thinking for once that he would be within the reaches of those that hunted him; prideful that he was smarter, better than those around him. The unfortunate man fell from grace and was banished from the country sealed away in some high security prison in the middle of an unknown island somewhere.

An island that held no luxury or comforts that the silly man was quite dependent upon. However, that was not the tragedy of this tale; instead the poor family of such a imbecile had to suffer. Surely those around had argued that the family of the man were just as guilty as the man. They had after all had turned a blind eye to the man’s dealings. Using the funds that the man claim was his yearend bonus to go on costly vacations and never question why those in the same position were not doing the same.

The family would be placed into protection details with their name changed and under constant watch as they move about the country side, never forgotten and perhaps even never forgiven.

Yes, Mycroft always remembered that little lesson and made sure to always be in check. He never wanted to be caught out.

Mycroft always recalled all of those around him. When they first entered their positions and slowly the pure color of idealism started to tarnish and wither away into a shade of gray. He could count the amount of people on his hand that weren’t affected originally and now. One by one they dropped like flies.

Which brings along the thought of the small little pathologist that his brother had brought in as confidant. Mycroft was quite surprise to say the least because Sherlock never really trusted anyone that easily.

A naive child of the world as Mycroft likes to think of her. Always being hurt by those around her, and yet who was she?

Molly Hooper a pathologist, the professional title Mycroft thought as he turned one page of the file in his hand that his assistance had gathered for him.

Miss Molly Hooper a daughter to two doting parents that suffered the loss of her little sister in a car crash. An ignored child when the hurt of the parents grew too much and they did not gathered the single child into their bosoms.

Pulling out the recent photo he lean back in his chair, his eyes skimmed over the features of the child like woman, ferreting out anything he could from the image. A laughing Molly that was caught in mid-conversation with John Watson while having tea with the blonde fair hair man, who saw too much and still kept on wanting to see more.

He supposed they were similar in circumstances that they were both doctors. Though John Watson was Sherlock’s doctor, always his doctor, even in addressing the affection of John’s the underline of Doctor existed around the small stout man.

Yet it belied the steel of a soldier that he could see appealed to his little brother. A man that as willing to die in the line of fire, and yet heal while taking a life. A contradiction and yet there was another that was unique that Sherlock gathered around him. Oh-he picked John, but it was Molly Hooper that chose to stay to observe and blend into the fine concerto his brother created.

‘Little Miss Perfect.’ Mycroft’s finger slid over the ink typed words, which he noted of transcripts of what people around Molly Hooper called her. Even, soft she control the autopsy bay and she was quite clever, a pretty clever genius. The scores from her I.Q. exam was already crafted in his mind, surely she wasn’t as clever or on the same level of the Holmes level of intelligence, but she was close enough compared to all of those other’s he met.

Mycroft tap his fingers on the papers and set the photo down on the desk. His fingers drew together in steep concentration, Moriarty that name and man was horrible mistake, and yet he wondered if that mastermind even noted what he had in his hands.

Where the main plan was overlooked for that spider, because she was a lynchpin that brought that insane maniac’s plan to a crash when she decided to help his brother and that was the point as to why he now was reviewing the details of the documents on his desk.

His mother was going on about how he needed to find a bird. Of all unrefined words, the word bird drew distaste to his chivalrous senses. In his mother’s eyes both her children were growing older, and he simply wanted to continue to work in peace without his mother worry and fussing over him.

Sherlock in his mother’s opinion was already settled as he was going to be, what with his Doctor always by his side. In Violet Holmes opinion that was as good as it was going to get. Especially, since John was such a nice boy, in her opinion, much too good for her Sherlock.

Hence, Mycroft was at a standstill, his mother gave him the option to bring along a prospective lady friend or even to his distaste a male friend. At first, he was thinking of imposing upon his assistant Anthea to help detract his mother’s interest, unfortunately, his mother was not a clueless individual. He also knew that his mother would know immediately and then there would be hell to be paid and he did not want to exert anymore energy trying to de-tangle the mess if it were to happen.

It was a simple worded phrase of Sherlock that brought along a solution to his issue, “Why don’t you just simply find someone like John. John isn’t boring like all of those other idiots, who knows maybe you find a doctor.”

Circumstances were quite dire and Mycroft was desperate to not cause his mother undue distress and having her butt into his private business. Mycroft let out a sigh and pulled out a cellphone, he just simply have to force the issue before the visit to Mummies house. He winces at the thought of how much Sherlock would fuss, but perhaps this would help Sherlock benefit to learn patience.

Then again he could just see his little brother screaming. Pressing a button he heard an answer response, “Yes, get me Doctor Hooper.” He paused to listen to the response and nods his head, “Yes…bring her to Location 8. I think lunch would be fine for her, since she hasn’t eaten in over eight hours.” He was considering the time; the voice on the phone gave him a time, “Good.” He then hanged up.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and readjusted the pinstriped suit he wore. His fingers tug out the pocket watch and he checked the time once again. Slowly he stood up, and made his way to the door, pulling his trusty umbrella with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How smart is Molly Hooper? Mycroft is just about to find out.

_'Ring-a-ring o' roses,_   
_A pocket full of posies,_   
_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_

_We all fall down.'_

 

A soft voice hums the tune lulling softly while rib spreaders dug deeply into the chest of the passed away 14 year old boy. It was such a shame in Molly’s opinion that this child had died due to a drunk driver’s.

The only consolidation was that the driver was arrested for voluntary manslaughter, because he reckless in operating a vehicle while voluntarily under the influence of alcohol.

If Molly wasn’t so exhausted, she would have been sobbing her eyes out, because that was the tough cases the children that had died. Taking a deep breath she began to sing softly, inwardly, she drew upon the illusion that she was just simply singing a lullaby to a child.

It was sort morbid though, the song Ring a Ring o’ Roses a song since it was often associated with the Black Death that happened in England around the 1665.

To Molly it was a song that helped her carry on with her work. It also reminded her that circling of children turning around before falling down was a simple chain, and that even though she would like to ignore the death of this child it was simply inevitable. That the vessel was empty and no one was home.

Humming while she finishes weighing each organ one at a time then checking where the impact lay on the frail body. Once that was completed it was time to clean up. Turning the handle bar she decreases the rib spreaders and slowly stitch up the body each movement well practiced and cautious to ensure that it would be neat and clean in place. Once a suit was placed onto the body, she was sure that it would conceal where she cut into the body. With a fine touch of her blue gloves on the face of the boy, she pulls a white sheet over the body to conserve the modesty of the dead child.

Stretches her back, Molly wheeled the body into place and slid it away into storage. Taking a deep breath, she unsnapped her gloves tossing them away. Then begin to clean her hands with soap and water at the sing off to the corner.

Molly was glad that she did not have to see the parents of the boy. She was already weary and exhausted; instead another doctor on duty would be the individual to give her report to the mourning parents.

Stomach growling she glances to the clock that was position above the wall and winces at the time. Molly releases out a sigh she missed lunch and it was already approaching dinner time. Pondering, she grabs her purse and decided to go to the cafe that was across the street to grab at least something to eat.

 

Taking a step outside of the building of Barts she was accosted by two men. “What?”

“Doctor Hooper…” A burly man spoke with a deep voice at the pathologist, “You are expected by Mr. Holmes.”

Molly’s eyebrows lifted upward in surprise, “Um…I don’t remember any appointment to see Sherlock.”

“No, Doctor Hooper, the other one.” The man replied patiently, though his partner was clenching and unclenching his fist, while eyes were scanning around nervously.

“Ah.” Molly quirk her head to the side as she remember, which Holmes they were referring to a listless sigh escape her lips. “Does it have to be now? I just got off work and I am starving.”

“Not to worry.” A black car pulled up to the curve as the nervous man pushes her lightly in the back toward it. “Mr. Holmes has already prepared dinner.”

“Oh.” Molly was about to refuse, but the door swung open and she was pushed inside. “Hey!”

 

The door was shut immediately and she turned to voice her displeasure, but looked a bit surprised at the smartly dressed lady in front of her tapping on the black berry. The woman did not bother to look at her as the car jerked into motion. “You can tell your boss that his men are brutes.”

The woman lifted her eyes skimming over her quickly; a smirk lifted the side of her mouth. “He knows.” With that smart retort she glances back down typing on the little black device.

Molly sat back and rubbed the side of her temples. A hand displayed a bottle label aspirin, looking up in surprise, but the other woman was still tapping away one handed on the device. Suppressing a huff, Molly took the bottle and opened it, checking to make sure that the drug was really aspirin, and then pulling the bottle of water that was already ready for her.

Taking the pill she swallowed the water thirsty, Molly was starting to understand how socially unequipped the Holmes boys were. Finishing the water bottle she closes her eyes and relaxes her body.

It did not take long, before the car stopped, brow knitted together as the woman exited the car once the door was open. Peering curiously out of the door, Molly took a step out of the vehicle and looked around. They were in a parking garage, the woman motion with her finger, “This way.”

Following behind, Molly noted that they were going up the stairwell and into an elevator, it started and moved upward. Until opening to the roof top looking up, she noted that the sky was encased of glass. They were inside a roof top green house of some sort, tons of planets of any species were gathered around from orchids to local tulips.

 

There sat in his refine splendor underneath a large umbrella in a three piece suit was Mycroft Holmes. Glints of red high light the shade of his brunet hair through the light that pass around the glass world.

A perfect set of creamy white dinner ware was place on a circular table that was encased in a red table cloth. Off to the side was another table that held food that was still warm and hidden behind a set of eight silver plated dish covers.

Feeling wary by the display of wealth that probably cost a month of earnings of her salary from Bart; she observes her surroundings and noting the exit points. Then she paid attention to the man in front of her, who was also calculating and noting her reactions lips quirked upward in satisfaction.

 

A tea cup fitted dainty in his hand, “Ah Miss Hooper. Please do join me.”

 

‘Said the spider to the fly.’ Molly thought drawing a breath through her nostril she took the first step into the carefully orchestrated trap.

 

~_~_~_~

Mycroft set his tea cup down and stood up he pulled out the chair from across him. “Please do join me.” He was impressed that Molly was not shaking, the smell of lilies coupled with formaldehyde lingered, it was quite interesting this young woman.

Molly settled herself in the chair that was lined with a cushion. “I am curious as to why you called me here.”

“Why do I need to have a reason?” Mycroft tut and push her chair in to entrap her against the table. But just leaving a small amount of space to not fully enclose her, just making it difficult for her to leave that quickly, “But let’s not talk about unpleasantness, I am sure you are famish.”

‘Was Mycroft Holmes flirting?’ This thought lingered but with a quick flicker of annoyance it disappeared from Molly’s mind.

Mycroft watches the display on that pale face in amusement.

“I suppose not.” Molly steadies her nerves and instead of watching the face of Mycroft, she observes the way he smoothly took a seat from her. It was envious how refine, he was trained to move in and out of furniture, not like her, always bumping and being clumsy.

Dance classes were absolutely a bust and her parents always did say she was born with two left feet.

With a motion of his finger a Waiter appeared and place in front of Molly’s plate Quail with asparagus season with chili pepper. The smell was heavenly, and Molly felt her stomach growl in hunger, embarrassment sprinkled over Molly’s cheeks.

“Please help yourself, I know I called upon you at such a moment, and you had been working quite harder as expected what with the unfortunate case you had to take on.” Mycroft intoned without feeling.

It surprises Molly by how much Mycroft knew, however, she suspected it wasn’t simply just by looking at her, but rather by Intel that Mycroft seem to possess. “Thank you very much then.” Picking up the silverware, she gently cut into the quail and took a bite refraining from moaning at the taste that exploded into her mouth.

Mycroft’s own plate was displayed, but all it held was salad with Salmon. Staring at the plate she ponders upon the selections, before a familiar voice slid through her mind in reminder of Sherlock always calling his brother fat. She took another bite, but her eyes were sliding over Mycroft’s form noting down the shape and measurements.

 

A glass of Perrier water was served to Molly. She wanted to tell Mycroft he did not need to lose weight, since no one could be as skinny and bony like Sherlock. Then again, she did not have any influence with such a man as Mycroft Holmes. Molly considered as she ate in silence with the man, as to why he called her here.

The man before her display a power not just simply his position that she suspect was beyond even that of MI6. There was a book she read about zeitgeist theory once upon a time in a philosophical class. It was a paper she had written about during school in regards to a theory of Thomas Carlyle’s in regards to ‘what makes a great man’.

Molly recalled that Carlyle’s theory, he stresses that leaders do not become leaders by fate or accident. Rather they contained certain traits and characteristics of great leaders and because of these traits allow them to obtain positions of power.

Mycroft Holmes was indeed a great man, packaged in a suit, not as good looking as Sherlock surely, but he fit a different category that was not on the same equal footing of Carlyle’s theory. Would Mycroft Holmes display traits that make him a great leader? Yet, he was not in the public view, perhaps he was a byproduct?

 

Molly cut into her asparagus after taking a sip of the mineral water. She did not notice that Mycroft was now openly watching her, fascinated by the display of emotions sliding over Molly as she thought.

“Miss Hooper…is the food not up to your standard?” Mycroft asked gently, he was just simply drinking nice vintage red wine.

“Oh!” Molly flushes, “I am sorry. I guess I am terrible at conversation. Um the food is delicious just…”

Silver-blue eyes were watching and Molly felt self-conscious. “I do hope I am not making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that it’s just…” Molly blurted out, “You…”

“Me?” Mycroft prompted.

“You are quite an interesting puzzle, you reminded me of a paper I written about the zeitgeist theory versus that of the Carlyle Great man theory.” Molly knew she was babbling, and already feeling incredibly embarrassed that she was being downright rude.

A spark of recognition slid through and Mycroft lean back getting comfortable in his chair, “I am quite flattered.” His voice took a deeper quality tone of warmth.

Molly wondered if this was real or simply a display. She had seen Sherlock turn into a block of ice when he had no need, but his brother was a bit of a different animal compare to the childish behavior of the younger Holmes. “Well it’s just I am trying to decide if you fit Carlyle’s theory, but you don’t quite slid into what he describes are traits.”

“Ah yes!” Mycroft spoke softly, “Traits of leaders not becoming leaders by fate or accident and all, but indeed. I don’t find myself in that segment. I like my nice little small government position.”

Molly pointed out, “But you aren’t exactly small in position either.” She set her fork and knife down and leans forward. “You, Mycroft Holmes are a mixture; perhaps maybe you are the spirit of time of this era a focal point.”

Mycroft’s lips gave a small twitch, “So I am basically a spirit…Der Geist seiner Zeit (The spirit of his time)” He pulled up a hand and closes it into a fist then releasing one finger to wave it back and forth. “No man can surpass his own time, for the spirit of his time is also his own spirit.” He was intrigued, “Tell me what spirit would I be?”

Molly was enchanted by the flickering of color in those less cold eyes, a crinkle of skin around his occipital bone made his eyes almost seem warm and less ice like. “England.”

 

Then like a shutter the blank look slid down over Mycroft’s face.

There was silence that slip through the air then Mycroft whispered softly, “Perhaps, I underestimated you Miss Hooper.”

“Perhaps it’s because you are simply are needed Mr. Homes.” Molly felt like she was being dissected by the man. “And I simply don’t count.”

There was a gleam that slip out of those eyes, “That’s where you are mistaken Miss Molly Hooper.” Mycroft lean forward slightly, “I am just a man, and even though you think I was created from a situation where I am needed as a leader behind the scenes for England…” He spoke gently almost to a frighten child. “I am still a man and you…are definitely all woman.”

A shiver slid up and down Molly, and she jumped when a firm hand touches her own on the table gripping it lightly.

 

To be Continue

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't wise to ignore Mummy Holmes.

**_CHAPTER 3_ **

_Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler. – Albert Einstein_

In the wintry London, night, a dark form moved through the deserted warehouses, every once in a while checking casually while swinging his umbrella around making sure no one was following. If he was tubby in weight instead of slender, he would make a great character called Penguin, from the old Batman Television shows that the Americans were so enthralled in 30 some years ago.

 

Moving along, the man’s assistant and driver had parked half a dozen blocks away despite the wind and cold, he had instructed them to come get him after he had finish his brisk meeting.

 

When he reached the door to one of the warehouses, he paused for a final look around before going in. Beside the warehouse, a woman laughed softly to herself, then slipped in another door she had time to open before the man had appeared.

 

The man then went to the exact same door opening it, “Do you really have to go through all this trouble Mother?”

 

Violet Holmes dressed in dark classy clothes with a warm jacket was perched on a comfortable chair, with his father Siegfried Holmes. Covert was over simplifying his parents they had requested from his staff to facilitate this set up for them, since Mycroft was such a busy person. Then again, this meeting ground was one of the investments made by subsidiary companies that he had under his name.

 

A fire was light in a well-placed stove, Mycroft’s people were very well connected and could practically ship a whole living here, if they so choose too. Violet was serving tea and gave an exasperated huff, “For goodness sakes get over here and have a seat, didn’t I teach you any manners?”

 

Mycroft motion started forward, he never did want to upset mummy. “You could have just waited and I would have come in two weeks.”

 

“Myc…” Siegfried warned he gave an indulgent smile to Violet, “Your mother pines to see her lost children.”

 

“We aren’t lost…” Mycroft brush his suit and sat down on the cushion that was placed on an uncomfortable iron wrought chair. A dignified silence spread through the air and disappointment lingered on his father’s face. “We just are quite busy…”

 

Mycroft would have fidgeted but he spent years perfecting the ability to not show any weakness, though his parents knew him the best. ‘Sentiment and all.’ How he loathed that emotion that his parents were weak too.

 

Violet Knight Holmes was such a smart woman, a genius that could write on quantum mechanics to even cybernetics if she should choose too. Instead, she fell in love married Siegfried William Holmes a noble man that was a small man, which held a position in the government of confidential nature.

 

Though not on the grandiose scale as his son now was in possession.

 

Violet set the Churchill China onto the table and pushed a tea cup with saucer near her son. “Busy is just a simple excuse.”

 

“It’s not when it comes to Election Day…” Mycroft stated like he was disagreeing with the shade of green that should be called periwinkle.

 

A clearing of throat and Mycroft quiet down on his excuses. “Now, why are you here?”

 

Violet huffs, “And why should there be a reason?” She pats Mycroft hand, “I just wanted to make sure that you are fine. You did not call me and I got worried.”

 

“She also wants to see if you were having company.” Siegfried revealed, “We been hearing some wonderful things about a future guest of yours from Maria was it?”

 

Mycroft face was smooth like glass pane, “I think she goes by Anthea again since its Monday…” He deflects the worded question.

 

“Yes, we know your assistant's peculiarities. Now tell me about this Molly.” Violet’s light eyes lit up, “You did invite her did you not?”

 

“Not yet.” Mycroft conceded reluctantly in defeat.

 

“What is so hard in asking her?” Siegfried asked clearly astonished by how slow his son is, “All you do is go up to the nice girl and say, come with me to meet my parents…”

 

“Your father is quite right.” Violet agreed with Siegfried, “When your father approaches me, he just simply asked, though I do admit I thought he was simply insane.”

 

“Your mother was quite hot, and still is sexy.” Twinkling grey eyes lit up in affection as they swerve to look at Mycroft’s mother.

 

Mycroft grip his head and groaned, it was worse when his parents decided to use public affection. “I don’t think…”

 

“Phish-Toss.” Violet wave her hand around, “You are even more slower than Sherlock. At least he gotten around to agreeing to bring along that delightful man of his.”

 

“You’ve been to see him already?” Mycroft asked, but observed thinking that his Intel was slow if there were no reports of this. However, he had a feeling that someone was conspiring with his parents to prevent his escape from this little get together.

 

Violet look smugly, “He was quite surprised.”

 

“Well, considering the position, darling, I think that would be quite understated.” Siegfried exclaimed with a chuckle, and then softened his tone. “IN flagrante…”

 

“Mummy…Father!” Mycroft warn dangerously, “It pains me greatly, when you describe my brother’s dalliances.”

 

“It’s only natural, Myc.” Violet sooths lightly Mycroft’s annoyances, “You will know it, once you have experience it yourself…”

 

Mycroft really hope to any greater power, that it would never occurred, but he wanted to get out of here before he was informed of any other grievance’s his parents would like to quarry with him about. “I’ll be sure to invite her.”

 

“See that you do, son.” Siegfried approved taking a sip of his tea humming in approval of the flavor.

 

Violet’s eyes gleam, “Or we might have to help you out, after all young ladies require time to adjust to thoughts of meeting someone’s parents.” She wave her fingers, “And that poor girl is a young lady, remember your manners.”

 

Mycroft sigh inwardly, “Yes Mummy.” He stood quickly, “I have to go, please enjoy the tea, and I’ll have someone take you where you like in say 30 minutes.”

 

“Yes-your father has one of those cellphones that you keep shoving at us…I am sure we can figure out how to answer it.” Violet said without any protest.

 

Mycroft then hurried away texting his cellphone to let his driver know he was ready for the pick-up spot. He dread his parents meeting Molly, imagine all the tales that could damage his credibility in terrifying those around him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft should of know if he put off the inevitable that he would be paying a price.

**Chapter 4**

_“Ideas of Progress are shaped by Human needs, and broad shifts in those needs have necessary influence the course of innovation.” – Nicholas Carr, Wall street Journal_

 

“In 1940s, the psychologist Abraham Maslow introduced his famous hierarchy of needs. He argued that human desires progress through five stages, with each new stage requiring the fulfillment of a more basic need.”

The radio speaker continued onward, while Molly continued her work.

The fluorescent lighting casting a yellowish screen over the body a white board off to the side that listed the document that she would have to list as she walked back and forth taking notes of the body.

A Mr. Albert Fields was place on her table modestly covered by a white sheet. Her scrubs were on, because Molly did not want to tarnish her sweater let alone contaminate this patient’s body with any particles she pick up on her way to Barts. Her mind noticing the theory of Maslow being spoken on basic needs while she continued her work slowly.

“First we attend to our most primitive physiological requirements, like eating and reproducing. That frees us to focus on our needs for safety and security. Once ‘we’ve taken care of those, we can attend to our craving for love and companionship, and then on to our desire for self-esteem and, finally, to our need for what Maslow calls self-actualization” The radio man voice blared.

That point Moly snorted, “Explain that about Sherlock and John then….” She was not bitter, but she felt that it was ironical that the one man that stated that his body was transport and required needs such as eating refuses to eat until the mild army doctor came into his life forcing him into those basic needs.

Sure, the companionship came to those two men, but it still was absolutely amusing the actualization's. If John and Sherlock were place onto an island and starved she seriously doubt that both would not figure out a way to survive and still be good companionship.

Nevertheless humans were beasts only differentiation is that they all have self-preservation, though she doubt that it would have come to that with those two men.

They after all, killed for one another, and there fondness would not cross that point of self-need over that of the feeling they have with one another.

Then again Molly was no expert at all when it came to these trifle thoughts, but then considering the radio was all about technology and the psychology usage of Maslow, she seriously doubts that it would have been fulfilling at all. “Size of liver is fatty and discolored, heavy drinker,” she murmurs.

“Yes he did enjoy his cognac…” A deep voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up surprised. A man in a grey jacket and purple jumper stood with an elderly woman.

“Um…can I help you? Are you relatives of the decease?” Molly asked, her hands tightening on the scalpel.

Familiar shaped eyes stared at her from the heart shape of the older woman that was coupled with approval. Her eyes slid over both man and woman and slowly it was piecing together.

The older males eyes twinkle with mischief, “You’re….are you?”

“Ah…she is indeed clever.” The woman slowly let go of her husband elbow and moved forward holding her glove hands, “I am.” Lips tugging, “Violet Holmes and this is my husband Siegfried Holmes.”

Molly eyes the hand and slowly places down the scalpel and unsnapped the purple gloves to toss it into the waste basket. Her hands were cold when they touched the elderly woman’s glove hands; she noted the lace that was woven in those delicate gloves at the end, though she noted the feel as cashmere.

“It’s a pleasure…to meet Mummy Holmes…” She spluttered a bit.

A tinker in her voice Violet gave a bigger smile, “Yes…you are quite delightful, I can just see it.” She pat Molly cheek lightly almost motherly, “I hope we aren’t troubling you.”

“It’s mostly work, but I can take a break…” She move over to the body and covered the man’s whole body and nods, “We can go to my office, I could offer you some coffee or tea?”

“Oh yes that would be lovely!” Violet exclaimed, “It’s absolutely freezing out there, seem like microclimates are at it again…”

“It’s lucky the downpour happened after we arrived…” Siegfried mentioned.

Molly gestures toward her office and made her way to open the door, wondering what in all Lord Power was going on. Of all people she did not expect to meet the Holmes brother’s parents.

Moreover, she did not even know that they still had parents both were private and extremely annoying men. Then again it was more annoying when she did not know what was going on and that was the crux of the issue.

~_~_~

Mycroft was getting a severe headache, keeping peace with the Korean Diplomats was tiring, worse was how useless the Prime Ministers lackeys were with all not having any brains behind those skulls and super expensive educations provided by British Government funding. The throbbing was heavy and he finally pulls out his phone to glance at it, as he slid into his regular car.

The motion took off immediately by his private security forces. Each detail and observations were time exactly like a moving silent machine.

A message of reports came upon the flashing light of his phone. He swipe the phone feature to unlock and glances through the information a large frown slid over his brow. “Anthea…” He called the woman’s attention that sat across from him. “Why am I getting reports of my parents being at St. Barts?”

His assistant glance at him then back to her blackberry, “They went to see a dead body.” That was all she stated, which was silently saying ‘obviously you should know.’

“I doubt the late Albert Fields would warrant a visit from my parents. Now tell me why I did not get this alert earlier?” Mycroft rather advert World War III then deal with his parents, however, there was no idea for him to factor in to what was behind his parents behavior.

‘Except’ of course, Molly!

The throbbing in his skull tripled, it wasn’t that long since he seen his parents and now they were moving with objectiveness to inform Molly of all things the invitation to their estates in order to accompany him.

Utterly mortifying, it did not fit his schedule, a loud inward sigh slip through his chest and he clamor for his well-developed walls of calm. Utterly useless when it came to dealing with the trivial of his loose cannon parents. He inwardly gave a glare to his assistant positive she sent the messages on delay in regards to his parents.

“Driver.” He pressed an intercom, “A change of schedule, send me to St. Bart please…”

“Sir.” Anthea interrupted at the shift of the car, “Your parents have left the facility with Miss Hooper they are heading toward your mother’s usual tea rooming arena.”

Mycroft grimaces the tea room was something his parents frequent, well his mother, though his father seem to tolerate his mother’s quirk, including all the frills and pink. Molly surely would love the setup, even though it was still sophisticated in dinnerware and selections the decor of pink was a theme that turned Mycroft’s stomach. “Very well…” He gave orders and the vehicle change to accompany the newest location.

Mycroft rather deal with epidemics, plague, famine, and perhaps the constantly trouble his brother places him in, when he causes an international disaster, then to deal with this upcoming confrontational meet up.

Alas like most Shakespearean tragic plays, it was not meant to be.

And yet to be or not to be is not a question, but more of calamities that Mycroft knew were even beyond the three witches’ warnings to Macbeths. In his case it was a foregone conclusion. He Mycroft Holmes would be embarrassed by his parents for not keeping to the itinerary and telling or asking Molly as soon as his mother had last time met him and so he was just simply, utterly, DOOMED.

Sherlock would claim if he was told of what was about to occur, that Mycroft was being a drama queen. Mycroft would retort that it wasn’t being dramatic at all but then the brothers never did see eye to eye.

Mycroft just lean back and closed his eyes inwardly sighing, he just hoped his parents would not cause him indigestion when he gets there. They were just as bad as Sherlock though they were more troublesome because they acted like newlyweds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another meeting one by one he comes along.

_‘If you try to please everybody, nobody will like it.’_ – Murphy’s Law

A dozen light sources from the low ceiling of the small tea room settled on Molly’s dry eyes. With a flap of a hand an elderly woman with bright green eyes lead them to a table that could seat around it four people. The shade of the room was in pink with white curtains drawn to block the light from the outside of the building.

The room reminded Molly of when she was twelve during her Aunt Mildred’s banquet in her summer cottage. The settings were quite the same even to the evergreen shade of her Aunts carpet.  A quirk of Molly’s lips drew up at the little memory of just as hysteric Aunt when her cousins’ tabby cat called princess had brought in a mouse into the living room. The mouse was luckily not alive anymore and the cat proceeded to mutilate the small creature until it was disfigured and grotesque and no longer resemble any semblance to a mouse.

Molly at that time was grateful that the creature was spared the pain; nevertheless the screaming of her aunt did make her wonder if there was ever something wrong with her especially when  her cousins were all making noises of absurd nature. They reminded her of caricatures she view on the newspapers that hinted with mockery toward their debatable or subjective materials.

To Molly derision she felt that the cat was only doing what was nature for it. It wasn’t like the cat knew it was doing anything wrong, but the very next day her Aunt Mildred had booted the cat out, and she never did see where Princess the orange tabby went. Immediately afterwards her cousin were given a new dress in the shade of royal blue to subdue the protest toward the disappearance of her cat, which she really didn’t really care about.

Granted the situation she found herself wasn’t remotely the same but just witnessing the tea room just supplied her with the memory.

Molly’s head snapped up when Violet had asked her something drawing her out of her thoughts. “Ah yes I am sorry what did you say?”

“I was only asking what type of tea you like.” Violet said patiently, a clear glint of amusement dance in her gray eyes.

“Oh I am sorry. Um.” Molly glances to the menu and skimmed quickly, “Earl Grey would be lovely with some milk and a cucumber sandwich.” She realizes she didn’t eat anything and felt quite bashful when Violet gave her a disapproving look.

“You really need to eat more my dear.” Violet said motherly

Behind her a door opened slowly.

Molly eyes widen at seeing the familiar figure.

“Ah, Mycroft. Here you are,” said Siegfried at his eldest appearance.  Mycroft face softens at the sight of his parents with a trace of utter exasperation.

Feeling nervous, Molly jumped a little when a hand grips her hand firmly with a playful squeeze. She glances over to Violet trying not to appear like her heart was jumping out of her chest.

“There you are, Mycroft.” Violet said softly. She turned her cheek to receive a kiss from Mycroft. “We were wondering when you would appear, you would have made us and sweet Molly wait for you.”

Molly didn’t expect Mycroft at all but the squeeze on her hand again made her keep her mouth shut so that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. It was utterly amazing and terrifying how easily Violet Holmes could ween enormous power over her already.

Mycroft gave a faint smile at Molly, “I do apologize for this Miss Hooper.”

~_~_~_~_~

“Hey, Molls. I’m gonna grab some caff. You want anything?”

Molly straightened and wiped the back of her gloved hand across her forehead. She had been at work for a full six hours.  Her gaze slid to the clock on the hall. Almost three. She had skipped her lunch break to work through it. She had at most two more hours to go before she could end her shift early today. She almost groaned. Two more hours.

“I am fine, Steve.” Molly unsnapped her gloves to bin them. She moved over to the computer to type in her access code.

Steve a law year medical school student was interning in St. Barts before completing his degree and taking the test to allow him to practice should he pass.

“Okay! See you in a jiff.” Steve bounces out of the door.

The one issue with Steve was that he seems to take a lot of breaks considering this was an internship. 

Molly ignored the swing of the door as she turned back to the computer to type in the data from the pad that she marked up while examining the cadaver. Her door pushed open alerting her of someone’s entrance.

Alan and George. Nice blokes. A couple of EMTs whom she rarely saw normally they would deliver their patient to the hospital alive. Of course, some died after arrival, but it was usually after the EMTs deliver them to the hospital.

This patient must have died in transit.

“Hey, Hooper. Got a stiff for you.” George said, “Nice jumper.”

Molly crossed the room to join them, pretending that she didn’t hear George’s words and Alan’s nasty glare to George. It was well known that Molly dressed nothing like a doctor, rather she like wearing unfashionable clothes that were comfortable even with their ridiculous images of happy cats.

Molly didn’t care what other’s thought. She had to deal with the dead day in and day out and sometimes even that was depressive. The morgue also was quite cold to keep the bodies from degrading at exponential rate so she had to dress warm. No way was she going to be like Doctor Ellen Stewart the Plastic surgeon on floor seven. Dressed in black Prada high heels at least seven inches high to pencil skirts of Burberry and white expensive silk shirts.

Molly may earn a decent living, but she wasn’t into expensive clothes that would just sit in the back of her closet.

Alan handed her a clipboard with various sheets of paper. “Gunshot wound. For the record, he died in transit. Doctor Palmers pronounce him gone when we got here and asked us to just bring him down. They want an autopsy to, bullet retrieval, you know the drill.”

“I see.” Molly murmurs flipping through the paper and letting it fall back into place. She went to the other side of the room to grab one of the steel gurneys used for autopsies. Rolling it along she walked back to the EMTs. “Okay, could you help switch him over onto this while I check off and sign the papers?”

“You got it.” Alan said as he motion for George.

“Thanks.” Leaving the two men to it, Molly swiftly move to the desk and pulled out a pen from the desk drawer. Signing the necessary papers, and then walking back to the EMTs they had quickly shifted the body.

Molly respectfully drew the covers around the man’s body. The bullet wound in his chest pin point accuracy where a heart should be clued Molly into his demise, even though the papers already gave clues.

“Well catch you later, Hooper.” The two men then exited.

Molly rubs her neck and sat down on her desk to type in a new report with the information provided by the EMTs. Sliding on gloves she walked over to the body and started to set everything into place and up. The door opened with a squeak, Molly called out, “Just a moment.”

“That would be fine, Miss Hooper.” The smooth voice drew her head up and into the direction.

Molly braces herself and straighten her spine, “I don’t mean to sound rude, but why are you here?”

Mycroft lips quirk upward, “I simply wanted to continue our conversation since our last meeting.”

“I thought we had said everything we need to say to one another.” Molly felt sick in her stomach, not sure the cause was the men in front of her or the unsatisfied feeling of not haven’t eaten anything.

“Now, Miss Hooper.” Mycroft said, Molly wonder how his voice could make even her last name sound elegant, when in fact he was patronizing her like a small child. “I don’t think we have concluded our conversation. I really would like you to go see my parents at their home.”

“We established you really do not.” Molly said, “What was it you said…let’s see.” Molly geared herself up, “Miss Hooper you may not be the normally women I prefer company with, but you are socially acceptable.” She wrinkles her nose, “It makes me sound like a charity case and I would rather not deal with you if I can help it, since I am obviously not Oliver Twist.”

“Do you really have to be so melodramatic?” Mycroft inwardly winces at failing to bring forth any statement that might try to placid Molly. He normally was great at diplomatic blunders, but at this moment he seems to be flailing about. He wasn’t a sentimental man and he dreaded to place some unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane since Molly seems to have a gap in communication.

She wasn’t stupid. Considering she is a doctor that would be far from the fact. She wasn’t dull by no manner.

“I am not sure how to take your statements.” Molly fusses, “I have work to do.”

“Well we can do this the hard way, since you are about to faint.” Mycroft said unhappily.

Molly look upset, “Fine.” Relenting since the man would get in her way until she did what he wanted for now.


End file.
